


Blood of My Blood

by Zagzagael



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-02
Updated: 2014-05-02
Packaged: 2018-01-21 15:50:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1555763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zagzagael/pseuds/Zagzagael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hershel Greene in "Too Far Gone"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood of My Blood

Waking that morning, inside the prison they had made a home, he rolled out of a curling good night’s sleep and onto his back, fingers laced behind his head, letting the new day break slow and steady across his consciousness. He listened to Beth signing Judith awake, Maggie murmuring a love story to Glenn, Rick and Daryl and the hushed male tones that had come to speak of safety. Carl and the children, subdued but happy shrills echoing off the cement walls. And Michonne making one, two, three steady rounds insuring everyone was awake or asleep. Alive.

He didn’t know in that slow and gentle hour that it would be his last day. 

He had woken from a dream of two women calling his name. He opened his eyes before he could put the voices to a face, to a name, to a memory. Later, hands tied, sitting captive in The Governor’s RV, he closed his eyes for the briefest moment and in that heart-stuttering space he recognized the voices from his dream. That was when he began to accept. 

He took a deep breath of resignation and he moved from nervous apprehension into a suspended state of grace. 

He did wish, with a quick pin prick of regret, that he had a pen and paper. Or someone willing to take the weight of the burden he felt slipping off his shoulders. But it had been years now since he had the benefit of a sponsor. He would have to act his own confessor. But not savior, that was over.

He did not speak of it to Michonne, his fate was not her destiny.

As her body trembled in righteous rage beside him, he funneled what he could of the indignation he had left inside him into her. As all the injustice and unfairness moved out from beneath his skin, he sought out the calm center. With a cleansing breath he marveled that wrapping himself in memories was not painful, it was a joy. 

His wedding day, so ridiculously young. His best suit binding across his back, ill-fitted but the idea was to wear it for just two important days, the day you got married and the day you got buried. They had waited, the two of them, for that night. He never doubted for a minute that the wait had been worthwhile. 

Maggie’s birth was difficult. He was scared to hold the screaming infant, hands shaking as the nurse held her out to him. His wife, drifting in and out of exhausted sleep, all the blood vessels broken around her eyes from pushing. Thoughts of fathering a farmgrown brood of strapping youngsters fled his mind. And that was okay, too. He sobered instantly in that hour. 

The birth of Beth was a celebration of light. He had Maggie by the hand when they entered the hospital room. The motherless child now had a sister. For life.

***

Two wives, two daughters, a stepson. It wasn’t until after the world turned that he realized what gifts he had been given. Gratitude and gratefulness daily visitations now. And it was this appreciation he tried to leave as legacy to his new family.

 _This is your job, Hershel_ , he told himself. Do it well. 

Courage rose in him, the heartwood at his core. 

He listened, his soul already soaring free above his head, to Rick’s impassioned pleading. He wanted to call out to him, reassure him that it would be alright as long as he held onto the hope, the loyalty, the love. Keep them all safe, he wanted to say but it went without saying, love one another, he wanted to urge them to it and rejoiced that they already did, and never give up, he wanted to implore. Even in death, never let go of your faith in life.

“Liar.” He heard the voice of Satan in the mouth of a man. 

There was no pain, but there was a fierce need to protect the ones he loved. He would not have their eyes blinded with tears, they did not have to suffer his spirit fleeing his body. He began to crawl out of their sight. 

His heart swelled, not with fear, but with great fortitude. He was gone before the hands of the devil reached for him.


End file.
